


A new set of rules

by Sunja



Series: A game for two [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Plot, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Robb Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-09 20:29:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11676522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunja/pseuds/Sunja
Summary: Jaime had thought that should he ever meet the Stark boy again, it would be on the battlefield. It had not happened this way. It had happened after one of them lost a hand and the other one a war.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, here's a second part. A comment yesterday woke me from writer's hybernation and within a day this happened. (well, the second chapter happened, but all in good time)  
> Watch out for all the tragedy and hurt.

Jaime had thought, that should he ever see the Stark boy again, they would meet on a battlefield. That it would be him and his sword against the young king in the north and his dire wolf. But fate had spun their ways differently. 

Jaime had thought, that he would return to King’s Landing, reunite with Cersei and soon after resume either his service in the King’s guard or as a commander in battle against the enemies of the crown. He had thought he would find his rematch with the young wolf on the battlefield, in single combat. On grounds were they would be equal and where the better man would win. 

It had not happened this way. 

Jaime had screamed when he had lost his sword hand. Because of the pain, because of the humiliation, because that hand meant everything. Without it, he was practically worthless. He was a fighter, one of the best in the seven kingdoms and now they had taken that from him. He had kept going only because of Brienne and because he still had hope, that at least he would see Cersei again. It was all that was left now. Cersei. The family. He had endured the mud, the dirt, the infection, having his hand tied around his neck, the rotting stink making him sick even through the fever that the infection of his stump had brought. He had endured it, because there was nothing else to do. Nothing but endure, or die. And Jaime wasn’t ready to die, not without seeing Cersei for at least one more time. The memory of her golden hair, her smell, her lips on his own kept him going. He had changed in these months. His prior arrogance had fallen away with his hand, there had been moments when he had wondered what the point was. What would he do now? He was a cripple. He couldn’t fight, how would he protect his king, his son if he couldn’t even dress himself?

But he had always found an answer. Cersei. The family. Tyrion. He would have to take a lesson from his brother and rely on his wits instead of his skills in combat. If Tyrion had made it this far, he could as well. 

And eventually the thought crossed his mind, that he wouldn’t have his glorious rematch with the Stark boy after all. A pity really. He had told Roose Bolton to tell the Stark, that the Lannisters sent their regards for his wedding, in the hopes, that the boy would understand his tease. He had had suspicions about the wedding, obviously. If Lord Bolton, a bannerman of the Starks, was willing to return him to King’s Landing, that meant that he was betraying Robb Stark. Which lead to the conclusion, that the the next time the Stark boy met Lord Bolton, it would be a bloody affair. Jaime only hoped the young man still kept his wolf around wherever he went. The Northerner might be his enemy, but he didn’t deserve to die by the hands of a backstabbing bannerman. 

What he had not expected was what he heard when he finally reached the Capital. Not only had Lord Bolton betrayed the Starks, but so had the Freys. He heard rumors about the Red Wedding as they already called it. Lord Edmure Tully had married one of the Frey girls and while they had gone to their chamber, the slaughter had begun. From what he heard, everyone had died. Everyone but Edmure Tully who had been taken captive and Robb Stark. In a cruel twist of fate they had spared his life only to drag him back to King’s Landing, branded a traitor and destined to die at the hands of Ser Ilyn Payne. 

Jaime had arrived on the same day, dressed in rags, his arm in a sling. He had pushed and elbowed his way through the people to get a glimpse at the former king in the north. The boy had not looked well. There was blood all over his face, he winced at every movement of his left shoulder and he was limping. But despite all that, his expression remained blank, without any emotion, except for the pain that even the stoicism of a Stark couldn’t suppress. 

Jaime had been forced to wait until the parade was over and the mob dispelled until he finally managed to reach the red keep. It took some convincing, but eventually the guards let him in, despite him looking like a beggar. And Jaime had done, what he had been wanting to do for all the months he had been away. He went to see Cersei. 

He stood in the door, looking at her. She sat with her back to him, her golden locks falling over her back. She was so beautiful, oh, how he had missed her. With a trembling voice Jaime spoke her name. She turned around and looked at him. Jaime didn’t know what he had expected, but when she slumped, a horrified expression on her face, he couldn’t help but feel unworthy. Here she was, beautiful as always, and here he was, in rags, unkempt hair and beard and with only one hand. But it was Cersei. She still loved him, she would always love him, she had told him so on many occasions. She was his other half, his twin. She would never give up on him. But when Jaime descended the stairs and walked towards her, she shied away, the sad and horrified expression never leaving her face. And Jaime couldn’t take it. He held back the tears and turned around, walking toward the door, all the while hoping she would call him back. But she didn’t. 

So Jaime returned to his own quarters. All his stuff was still there, his armor with the white cloak, the two gloves mocking him, the sword beside it taunting him for his inability. Again, Jaime couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear it to be among all this evidence of the man he had been, the man he would never be again. He had to leave, had to go somewhere, had to find a way to figure out what kind of man he would be from now on. He had to find someone who wouldn’t look at him and be disappointed. Someone, who didn’t have any expectations, or who was just as desperate as he was. 

Before he could decide differently, his feet had taken him to the dungeons. He didn’t know the castle like Varys did, but even he had heard of one or the other secret passage. He knew of one, that would let him pass the guards unseen. So, Jaime took a torch out of it’s holder and entered the passageway. Only a few stairs and one corridor later, he stepped through another door, hidden in the stones of the dungeons where it was too dark for anyone to notice the opening by mistake. 

Jaime raised the torch, the soft light casting deep shadows along the walls and illuminating the single prisoner. 

The Stark boy had pulled his knees up to his chest and had hidden his face beneath his arms. He barely made a sound, but Jaime could see his shoulders shake from silent sobs. Jaime came closer, his steps echoing on the stone floor and the boy’s head shot up. He looked at him defiantly, despite the tears coating his cheeks, until Jaime came close enough to be recognized. Jaime deposited the torch in an empty holder and slid down the wall opposite to the Stark boy. 

He didn’t say anything, he just watched as the boy’s anger slipped when he discovered his stump. The tears had stopped flowing, apparently Jaime’s presence had temporarily distracted the Stark from his misery. 

„What happened to your hand?“, the boy eventually asked. 

„Someone cut it off. A man serving Lord Bolton, but he didn’t do it because he had orders. He did it because he could.“ Jaime looked down at his stump. Useless. 

„What happened to your shoulder?“, he eventually asked, eying the Stark boy. His hands and legs were chained and a collar tied him to the wall, but even now he kept a hand pressed agains his left shoulder. 

The boy laughed bitterly, and Jaime could see the tears welling up again. 

„Do you know, what they did?“, he asked. 

„I only heard rumors…“, Jaime answered uncomfortably. 

„Well, let me tell you.“ The Stark boy bound him with his eyes, his stare that was full of grief, despair and hate, pinning him to the wall. His voice was sharp as ice when he began. „It was my uncle’s wedding. We were the Frey’s guests. They were bound by law and honor, we thought we were safe. We celebrated, my uncle seemed happy. We _were_ happy. And then, after the bedding, they started playing the _Rains of Castamere_. They slaughtered my men, they stabbed my pregnant wife, killed her and my unborn child, they slit my mother’s throat, they killed Grey Wind and brought me his head. And then, right before he knocked me out, Roose Bolton, one of my most capable and most trusted bannermen whispered to me _The Lannisters send their regards_.“

Jaime felt dread forming an ice cold knot inside his abdomen. He had said those words. He had said them to Lord Bolton. He had never even considered what they could have meant in this context. Context that wasn't his, but his father’s. His father had probably convinced the Freys to not only betray their lords and their king, but also to betray their honor, whatever little they had ever possessed. 

Jaime didn’t know what to say, so he kept silent. Robb Stark kept looking at him, even when Jaime couldn’t hold his eyes any longer and looked away. 

„You want to know what happened to my shoulder, Kingslayer? Come and see.“ Slowly, carefully, the boy moved his hand away from his shoulder. Jaime pushed himself to his feet and walked slowly over to the young man. He crouched down, but couldn’t see anything except for a stain on the man’s shirt. So, very carefully, he untied the strings around the shirt collar and pushed it to the side. The young Stark gave a pained moan when Jaime pulled the fabric from the wound, where it had stuck. When he finally pulled the shirt away, he couldn’t suppress a gasp at the sight. It was a brand. A brand that stretched over half the boy’s shoulder and a good bit of chest. A brand in the shape of a lion. 

„Like what you see, Lannister?“, the boy asked in a grotesque parody of their last meeting. Jaime found he couldn’t meet his eyes. „You need a healer.“, was the only thing he could come up with. 

Robb gave a desperate, resigned laugh. „Tell me something I don’t know. If you can convince them to tend to a traitor who is basically a dead man walking, you’re welcome to do so. I’d love to be in perfect health when they chop off my head.“

„Don’t think like that.“ It was way to familiar. It was the same sarcastic remarks Jaime had always made when faced with certain death, it was the same desperation he had felt after losing his hand. Like there was no use in hoping. 

„And why shouldn’t I think like that? There is no way I walk away from this and even if I did, what would I do? There is no place for me to go, your family made sure of that.“

Jaime couldn’t deny the truth in that, but he also couldn’t bear to see the young wolf break. „Don’t think like that either. Focus on where you are and that things can only get better from here.“

Robb looked at him disbelievingly. „One, it can always get worse. Two, you’re one to talk. By the looks of it, you came back to King’s Landing today, you haven’t even shaved or changed clothes. You took one look at what you had and will never have again and came here, to _me_ , to find comfort.“

It hurt, Jaime found. Not the boy’s desperation and resentment, he had expected both, but the way he saw right through Jaime, found the wound and dug his fingers further in. Jaime sighed and sat down next to the Stark boy. „You’re right. My sister took one look at me and she was repulsed. I am the Kingslayer. I’m worthless if I can’t even kill a pigeon if you handed it to me gift-wrapped.“

„She’ll get used to it.“ The boy’s eyes were cold as ice. „ _You’ll_ get used to it.“

„And you won’t?“ Jaime wasn’t impressed by the boy’s stare. „When your father died, you moved on. You grieved, but you moved on. You wouldn’t have made it this far if you hadn’t. I realize losing both your mother and your pregnant wife at the same time must have been more traumatic but…“

„Don’t you dare talk like that.“ Robb looked ready to murder him. „I lead my banner men south to rescue my father. When they killed him…“ He stopped for a few moments. „I was ready to chop your head off just to hurt them. I was ready to kill every single Lannister who drew breath in the seven kingdoms. But I had my mother and Sansa was still in King’s Landing. I had to rescue her. But now… There is no one.“

They fell silent. Jaime thought it was interesting how the boy always said they as if Jaime wasn’t part of the family. Probably way to late he had a thought. „Your sister. Sansa. She must still be here.“

Robb looked at him. „And you really think they’d let her down here?“

„Do you really think they let _me_ down here?“, Jaime answered with a faint smirk. „I know a way. But it might take me some time. And I’ll definitely send a Maester first, if I can. You really don’t want your sister to see you like this.“ He grinned. „You have a bit of blood on your face, boy.“

The young Stark chuckled and immediately winced. „You’re still calling me boy.“

„Well. Somehow Lord Stark feels wrong, especially given the circumstances.“

„Just call me Robb.“

„Alright.“ Jaime sighed and got to his feet. „Well, Robb, I’d stay longer but I think they’ll notice my absence soon. Time to go and figure out my life. Until the next time, Stark.“

Robb just nodded. 

Jaime could feel his eyes digging into his back as he left through the same tunnel he had used to enter. 

 

——

 

The Kingslayer kept his word. In the same night, or maybe it was the next day, Robb found it hard to tell in the total darkness of the dungeons, a Maester came to see him. It turned out he wasn’t a real Maester though, his chain had been taken from him for a reason he wouldn’t tell, or at least wouldn’t tell Robb. But the man had expert medical knowledge and he brought salves that eased the pain of the burn and his other wounds. The Maester also washed his face, mostly to find the cuts, but Robb appreciated having a clean face again. What he’d give for a bath…

But since he probably wouldn’t receive a bath in the next time he just thanked the man and watched him leave. He took the torch with him and Robb again descended into darkness. 

After a some time that felt like it had been a few days Robb had lost all sense of time. There was no sound except for his breathing, there was no light and there was nothing to do except wallow in his misery. Robb could see their faces in the dark as if the were really there. His father’s chopped off head, even though he had never seen it, his mother with her throat cut. Bran and Rickon’s limp bodies, Theon standing beside them. Robb burned with hatred at the thought. Arya, lying dead in a ditch somewhere. Killed by someone for something and nobody cared because nobody recognized her. And then Talisa, her beautiful face, her soft hair, his beloved lying on the floor in her own blood, her hands cradling her bleeding womb, tears in her eyes. 

Robb let the tears fall. In the darkness no one would see them and even if they did, Robb couldn’t care less. They had defeated him, there was no point in pretending otherwise. 

Eventually, the Maester came back. He looked at Robb’s wounds again, unwrapped the bandage around the burn with the comment that it would need air to heal, applied some more salve and left again. 

Robb tugged at his shirt so it would cover the burn. Not the burn, the brand. A brand that marked him a traitor and a property of house Lannister, to do with as they pleased. His life in their hands. It was remarkable, Robb thought cynically, how fast the Lannisters had replaced the Baratheon banner with their own. True, officially Joffrey was a Baratheon, but the relationship between the Queen and Ser Jaime must have been the worst kept secret in the seven kingdoms and all the people with actual power were Lannisters. He didn’t know what he was supposed to think of all this. Why hadn’t they killed him yet? He had no information they could want, he had no value as a hostage and he had betrayed King Joffrey. King Joffrey… Was it possible that sadistic little beast of a boy was saving him for a special occasion? He must be, he didn’t think that bastard would show him mercy otherwise, not after having his fathers head chopped off for a far smaller crime. 

Not a very comforting thought. 

Weeks must have passed until the next visitor, besides the guards who brought him food, entered the dungeons. 

It was Jaime, walking more confidently and more purposefully than the last time. He had changed. For one his beard was gone and his hair trimmed to a short, practical cut. He was wearing clean clothes again, though less fancy than he had before Robb had captured him and his right arm, that had previously ended in a stump held by a sling around his neck, hung freely by his side, a new, golden hand fitted to it. 

„You’re looking better.“, Robb commented. 

Jaime deposited the torch in the holder and sat down in front of him. „So are you, though you could do with a bath.“

Robb sighed. „I’d kill for a bath…“

„Depending on the person, you’d probably kill for less than a bath.“ Jaime grinned and Robb couldn’t help but smirk back. He could tell the Lannister had changed, he had changed drastically, his arrogance was gone for one, but he still had his humor and wits. Thank the gods for that. 

„Why did you come?“, Robb asked. He was curious. Especially when Jaime didn’t answer and instead avoided his eyes. 

„What happened?“, Robb pushed. „Was it your sister again?“

Jaime shuffled over until he could sit against the wall next to Robb. „Yes. I just wanted to hold her again, after all this time… I missed her so much, she was the reason I kept going despite everything, to get back to her. And do you know what she said?“ Jaime paused before bitterly answering his own question. _„You took too long.“_

Robb found he didn’t have any comforting words for that. Instead he raised an eyebrow. „You’re not even denying it anymore?“ 

When he thought about it, he had never really denied loving his sister. He had just never admitted it before. 

„What’s the point.“ Jaime looked over at him. „You know it, the whole goddamn kingdom knows it, not all believe it, but most do. Except of course for my father and my children.“

Robb nodded understandingly, but then his curiosity won out. Time for another change of topic. „So, how is _my_ sister doing?“

Jaime cringed. „You’re not going to like it.“

That didn’t do anything to dispel Robb’s curiosity or his worry. „Tell me.“

Jaime seemed hesitant. „Well… In my absence, they broke the arrangement between Sansa and Joffrey.“, he began. „But since you’re a traitor and your siblings are dead, she is the heir of Winterfell, or her son will be.“

And Robb understood. „Who?“

Jaime hesitated again.

„Who did they marry her to, tell me!“, Robb demanded. 

Jaime sighed. „My brother.“

Robb froze. „What? The Imp?“ They had married his sweet sister to a Lannister? Well, of course they had, but the Imp?

„He may be a dwarf, but he is a good man.“, Jaime shot back defensively. „He won’t hurt her. In fact, it’s quite the gossip at court that she hasn’t let him into her bed and he is unwilling to force her. He’s a kind man and he’ll protect her better than anyone.“

Robb fell quiet. He supposed Sansa remaining a maiden was a good thing. As long as a marriage wasn’t consummated, there was still hope of breaking it. But it didn’t seem like there was any reason to break it, at least not for anyone who could. And if she had a Lannister protecting her at least she would be relatively safe, from almost anyone except the king of course. But he had to make sure. He looked over at Jaime. „When my mother released you, what did you promise her?“

„That I would return her daughters to her unharmed.“, the knight answered.

„So you swore to protect Sansa?“

„I swore to return her to your mother.“, Jaime corrected. 

„My mother is dead. But you can still honor your oath by protecting my sister.“ Robb had to hope Jaime would agree. Sansa needed all the protection she could get. Jaime looked at him and sighed. „I’ll do my best, but you need to know, I can’t fight with my left hand and I can’t disobey my kings orders.“

„Let’s hope you won’t have to.“ And that was that. Robb ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the strands stick together through blood and grime that he hadn’t been able to wash out. Robb looked at his fingers and the pieces of dried blood he had shaken from his hair and another question arose. One that he needed and dreaded to be answered. But he had to ask anyway. 

„When does Joffrey plan on killing me?“

„Well, he didn’t tell me, so I can’t know for sure, but the only logical time that isn’t now would be his wedding to Margaery Tyrell in a few weeks. Almost all the noble lords will be there, what better way to remind them of their place?“

It made sense. It would be a very messy event, especially on a wedding, so they probably wouldn’t mess him up to badly before, so that the guests would be able to keep their dinners in, but it would definitely sent a message that wouldn’t be easily forgotten. The king giving his queen a traitor’s head as a wedding gift. It would say a lot about what kind of gifts he expected from his subjects: Loyalty and the names and heads of anyone who wasn’t. Robb found it weird, thinking so logically about his own death. He supposed the thought of actually dying had to sink in before he would actually feel something at the thought. He had thought he had made peace with the idea of dying, but hearing his death being planned like an appointment he had to keep was truly disheartening. He had always hoped, that should he die it would be on his own terms, on the battlefield with Grey Wind by his side. Grey Wind, his loyal wolf, his friend, his other half. Gone. Just like all the others. Mother. Father. Bran. Rickon. Arya. Talisa. So few of them left now. The wolf pack was shrinking, leaving only a couple of lone wolves to fend for themselves. 

„Are you alright?“, Jaime asked, after Robb hadn’t said anything for a while. 

Robb didn’t answer, the answer was obvious. Instead he asked: „Will you come again?“

„Do you wan’t me to?“, the Lannister asked back. 

„Yes.“, Robb admitted. He couldn’t bare the thought of being alone until his death, stuck in the dark to be consumed by grief and fear. He needed the company and Jaime was welcome. If Robb was honest with himself, he had long since stopped thinking of him as an enemy or an adversary, more like another competitor in this game they were playing. A partner to play with. A shame the Lannister wouldn’t get the rematch he had hoped for. Robb had been anticipating their next meeting, but the way it was now there wasn’t much of a contest possible. The game had changed with Jaime’s lost hand and his defeat, but the possibility of it going on was still there, if Robb ever got free. But now he wouldn’t. Now, he was going to die on Joffrey’s wedding to prevent rebellion. 

„Can you come on the night before…?“, he eventually asked. „I don’t want to be alone on my last night on this earth.“

„I’ll be there.“, Jaime promised, his voice full of sympathy. 

„Thank you.“

 

——

 

Jaime had visited Robb another few times the last time about a week ago, before the night was there. Tomorrow, Joffrey would wed Margaery Tyrell. All the plans and preparations had been made, all the security, the food, the tables and seatings, the entertainment… 

And now, there was nothing left to do except get a good night’s sleep and hope everything would go well. The Red Keep was quiet as Jaime walked from his chambers to the entry of the secret passage he used to enter the dungeons. He had promised Robb he would keep him company and so he would. He had brought a skin of wine and some blankets in the hopes of making the young wolf’s last night as pleasant as he could. He would miss the boy. He would miss him a lot. He was an honorable man, but still human and less stiff then his father. Jaime found he liked him, liked his company, had enjoyed touching and being touched that night in the tent, he liked talking, fighting, playing with the boy, something he couldn’t really do with anyone else. Sure, he’d banter with Tyrion and fight with Bronn, but it wasn’t the same. They were both his friends, but the Stark… Jaime couldn’t help it, he felt protective. If he had had any way of stopping the boys execution that wouldn’t end in his own, he would have taken it. But there was none. No other way. 

So Jaime did what little he could do and entered the dungeons. 

He only needed to set one foot into the room, to know something was wrong. He quickened his step and hurried over to Robb, placing the torch in the holder before getting a good look at the boy. 

He was laying on his side, his eyes half open and his hands wound around his midsection. Also, he was lacking his shirt. 

„Robb?“, Jaime asked, surprised at how small and worried his voice sounded. 

Robb groaned and his eyes opened. With seemingly a lot of effort, he pushed himself up to his elbows and Jaime helped him to settle into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. Jaime looked the boy over. He had been beaten, that much was obvious. There were some cuts on his body, but mostly bruises that were already turning blue and purple. Big, ugly bruises that covered almost his entire body except for the brand. For the show then. To have Robb looked more roughed up for the next day. 

„Do you want some wine?“, Jaime asked, settling down on the ground next to Robb. 

Robb nodded and Jaime handed him the skin. It took a bit of fumbling, but eventually Robb managed to open it and drink a few deep gulps. Jaime took the skin and drank a bit himself, before putting the plug in again and laying it beside him. 

„Who beat you?“, he asked. 

Robb shrugged. „Don’t know. Nobody I recognized.“

„Goldcloak, Lannister or Kingsguard?“

„Lannister.“

That left several people giving the orders. Either Cersei or Joffrey or his father. But he supposed it didn’t really matter. He could still find out later, when he wasn’t trying to comfort a man sentenced to death. 

„Robb…“, he eventually began, when the silence had stretched to long. „What do you need?“

Robb didn’t answer and instead slid over to him and lay his head against his shoulder. Jaime felt a soft feeling grip him at that. He reached for the blanket he had brought and lay it around Robb’s shoulders, before reaching his arm around him and pulling him to his chest. 

„It’ll be alright, little wolf.“, he promised, knowing that it wasn’t true. But Jaime knew that it would still help to comfort. It had always worked with Myrcella and Tommen after all. _It’ll be alright. No one can ever hurt you._ It had worked with men dying on the battlefield, he had heard the healers talk like this. _It’ll be alright, you’ll be fine._ It was always a lie, but it always worked anyway. 

„I’m really going to die, aren’t I?“, Robb eventually asked. Jaime didn’t answer, only pulled the boy in tighter to show him he was not alone. 

„I kept hoping, you know? That somehow I’d go free, or they’d change their mind… But it’s not going to happen. I’m going to die.“

„We all die eventually.“, Jaime said. „No need to fear the inevitable.“ He paused, before a thought occurred to him. „And where ever it is we go after death, your family will be there waiting for you.“

Robb hummed happily at that and closed his eyes. „Don’t stop talking.“

Jaime smiled and kept talking. He didn’t want to stir bad memories, so he mostly talked about himself. He talked of his childhood, jumping from the cliffs at Casterlyrock, how mad his father had been when he found out, his first day as a squire, how he had been accomplice to several of Tyrion’s pranks, his first victory in a tournament…

He talked for a long time until he was sure Robb was deeply asleep. He then carefully lowered the boy to the floor and got to his feet. He would have stayed longer, but he was on guard duty tomorrow and he had to sleep. It would also be very suspicious if anybody found him comforting the traitor that was going to lose his head tomorrow. 

Jaime took a last look at Robb Stark, sleeping calmly like a child, his expression peaceful, before he took the torch out of its holder and quietly made his way back to his chambers. 

He went to bed soon after, but found he couldn’t sleep. He kept turning over, searching for a comfortable position, but couldn’t find any. There were none as comfortable and natural as leaning against the wall with Robb against his chest. 

It took what felt like hours before Jaime finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is already written and will be up soon. Yes, it will contain smut.  
> Please feel free to leave comments and kudos, I'd greatly appreciate that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bronn gives good advice and Robb makes a terrible pun.  
> (also smut.)

Jaime woke with the first sunlight. His sleep had been neither deep nor restful and he felt tired, but he sat up anyway. It was the big day, he had to get ready. 

Jaime tumbled out of bed and dressed in breeches, shirt and tunic before he took the golden hand from its place on the table and started pulling the strings tight with his right hand. He had learned by now how to tie the knots with his one hand and the occasional use of his teeth. 

Afterwards, he had a bit of breakfast, some bread and a bit of water to wash it down, and then he called for a squire to help him with his armor. He’d be wearing it all day. It wasn’t comfortable, but expected of him as Lord Commander of the King’s Guard. 

The morning turned out to be a rather boring affair. There was a big breakfast in the gardens with entertainers and visitors presenting their gifts to the King and the Queen-to-be. Jaime, unfortunately, was the Lord Commander and on guard duty. Therefore he stood to the side and watched, waiting for trouble, but none arose. He kept an eye on Prince Oberyn Martell, the Dornish man was known as a trouble maker after all, and Tyrion had seemed concerned about his presence, but apart from openly making out with his lover he didn’t do anything inappropriate. No, trouble didn’t come from the Dornish, the Tyrells or any other Lords, but instead from Joffrey himself. Jaime had always had mixed feelings about Joffrey. He wanted to love him like any father loves his son, but Jaime had never been able to fully fill that role and he had been a witness to too many of Joffrey’s misdeeds. Joffrey was cruel and never listened to reason and he was the King of Westeros. A dangerous combination. Joffrey enjoyed hurting or humiliating others. Today his target was Tyrion, as was often the case. Jaime had to force a calm expression on his face when Joffrey used his new sword to hack Tyrion’s gift into pieces. Joffrey might be his son, but Tyrion was his little brother and Jaime loved him. Tyrion was a good man and Jaime would go out of his way to protect him. Except he couldn’t protect him from this. From Joffrey. Because Joffrey was the King and so they all had to play his little games. Jaime hated it. War had been easier than standing by while Joffrey humiliated his brother. Being a captive for months had been more fun than serving as Joffrey’s Lord Commander, especially now that everyone either pitied him or laughed at him because he had lost his hand. 

With these bitter thoughts ghosting around his head Jaime made it through the breakfast. Next came the wedding ceremony. They all made their way to the Sept of Baelor, which took a disturbingly long time since the Goldcloaks had to clear the streets before them and keep back all the commoners who came to see their King and Queen. 

Jaime wasn’t the only one who noticed that the favor was clearly with Margaery while Joffrey looked pleased at the attention but disgusted at the commoners at the same time. 

The ceremony itself was short and peaceful, with only a minimal amount of death stares going around. Most came from Cersei and were directed at Margaery. Jaime felt mildly amused at that. In his mind, it was a good thing, that Joffrey finally had found a person he liked enough to let them manipulate him. Margaery was young, charming and good with people and not for one second did Jaime believe that she was just a pretty face. She reminded him of Cersei, though it was clear their personalities were different. But both of them knew how to smile and please and then use their charm to ruthlessly manipulate. Well. Cersei certainly didn't smile anymore, or at least not as often as she had used to, but the manipulation was still there. And the ruthlessness. Jaime loved her anyway and sometimes he hated himself for it. They still had good moments together, when Cersei would smile at him and tell him she loved him but those moments had become rare. Before Robert’s death they would always find time and space to see each other, to be together. And now, that Robert was dead and Cersei was free they had become more distant than ever. Now Cersei was often so bitter and hateful. She had hated people before, but now she essentially saw anyone as an enemy. She snapped at him and anyone her words sharp and hurtful, her threats subtle and still so frightening. Sometimes it was all Jaime could do to keep his face and not weep at what his sister had become.  
It was in those moments, that Jaime felt the urge to visit Robb in the dungeons. To get away and forget about Cersei for a while. To not be bothered by his duties his King. To go to a place where he could pretend that it was just him and the Stark in a tent with a night to themselves and nothing to disturb them. Jaime mused that it probably wasn’t a good sign to consider being imprisoned a fond memory. But it was true. Despite all the dirt and the cold and the insults it hadn’t been so bad. It had been a nice feeling not to have any responsibilities for once. To just sit there and bide his time by annoying people, waiting for a chance to escape. No one to disappoint, no one to order him around, because while the Northerners might have been his captors, he had owed no loyalty or respect to them. So he could defy them all he wanted and there was nothing they had been able to do since they needed him alive as a hostage. And of course, there had been the bonus of Robb Stark.  
Robb Stark who had captured him and held him prisoner, who had fought a battle of wits and banter with him, who had played a game of sex and touch with him, with whom he had talked many times in the dungeons. Robb Stark, who would lose his head by the end of the afternoon. 

They made their way back to the red keep. The crowd was cheering for their newly wedded king and queen and Jaime let his eyes wonder over the commoners. They were a strange folk. When he had returned to King's Landing, on his way to the red keep, looking like a beggar and a cripple, they had treated him as one of their own. Rough, but not to badly. They hadn’t seemed like bad people, at least not all of them. And here they were, cheering for the king and queen, well mostly for the queen, and they were throwing flowers if they had some. And yet Jaime had no illusions, that if a noble person, especially a woman, found themselves among them alone, they would be brutally raped and murdered. The common people were nice in their own way in everyday life, even in flee bottom, but whenever something extraordinary happened, they were wild, no matter if it was a beheading, a wedding or a parade. On today’s wedding, they were especially fiery, since they loved Queen Margeary so much and secretly still despised Joffrey. Jaime never knew how to feel about Joffrey. He loved him, since he was his son, and he hated himself for it, since Joffrey was a terrible person. He despised Joffrey, since he was a cruel boy with too much power and he hated himself for it, because despite everything Joffrey was still his son. Jaime only hoped Joffrey wouldn’t give him any more cause do hate him today. 

They arrived back at the keep and the celebrations began. Jaime talked to a few people, but kept himself in the background. He didn’t want to talk to people. He would have enjoyed talking to Robb, but that was out of the question now. Soon would be forever. 

It was after a group of dwarfs had presented their interpretation of the war of the five kings which had been in poor taste considering Tyrion and Lady Sansa, but had Joffrey laughing like a mad man, that Joffrey had begun to be in a particularly good mood. That was dangerous. When Joffrey was happy, he liked to hurt people. He liked that anyways, but when he was happy, it only made him happier. So Joffrey began to make fun of Tyrion and forced him to serve him wine. Jaime almost couldn’t bear to see it. How could Joffrey not see that Tyrion was a good man? How could anyone not see that? Tyrion might have been a dwarf, but he had a good heart. 

Luckily, Margeary again saved the day, by announcing the pie. They had it carried in, it was gigantic and Joffrey cut it with his new Valyrian steel sword. A few pigeons flew out and Jaime quietly asked himself how long they had been in that cake. Had they been baked in it?

However, is attention was quickly drawn back to the celebrations, as first Lady Margeary announced that the leftovers would be given to the common folk, a noble gesture that would make the people love her even more. Then Joffrey rose as well. A sinking feeling of dread settled in Jaime’s stomach. This could only mean one thing. 

„Mylords, Myladies, my Queen. On this day, I also have a gift for you.“ Joffrey smiled. He looked handsome in his golden gown, with his golden hair and blue eyes, and yet the cruel and gleeful smile on his face was the only thing Jaime could see. 

„I believe, that loyalty is an important part in any marriage and in any kingdom. As such, I wish to present you with a gift, to remind us what happens to those who break their holy vows.“ Joffrey paused dramatically. „Mylords, Myladies, I give you: Robb Stark, the would-be king in the North!“

And then he was there, dragged around the corner of a tent. His hands were chained before him and he still wore no shirt. The bruises had taken on ugly shades of purple and he had a new split lip that he hadn’t had the night before. Jaime felt anger welling inside him. Robb didn’t deserve this. He had deserved a death on the battlefield, as the leader and warrior that he was, not this. To be butchered to the amusement and intimidation of the Lords and Ladies of the court by the hands of Ser Illyn Payne. 

Gasps and whispers went around the crowd as the people looked on Robb’s bruised body and the brand that had healed, but would always show as a red scar on the otherwise pale skin of the young wolf. Despite everything, Robb didn’t look frightened. Jaime knew he was, but he hid it well. Robb looked just as calm and collected as his father must have, right before the end. 

„Robb Stark rebelled against the crown just as his father did. We all know what happened to Ned Stark, but for those who don’t, let’s freshen up their memories.“ Joffrey drank from his wine while he gave a glance around the crowd. 

„Do you have any last words?“, he then asked jokingly. 

For the first time, Robb showed a reaction and turned to look at Joffrey. „He who passes the sentence, should swing the sword.“, he then stated loud enough to be heard among the guests. Robb glared at each and everyone of them until his eyes found Jaime’s and _stayed_. Jaime didn’t know what his face looked like in that moment, his mind was raging a war of emotions, but Robb smiled softly and went back to staring into nothingness. 

„Very well.“, Joffrey said with a dangerous smile. He gave a quick cough and drank another gulp of wine before calling for his sword. A squire held it out to him and Joffrey coughed again as he unsheathed it. Jaime suddenly had a very bad feeling in his guts. Something was wrong. He made a small step forward. Joffrey coughed again, as he briefly swung his sword around. When his arms stood still again, Jaime could see they were shaking. 

„Joffrey, my love, are you alright?“, Margaery asked concerned. 

„I’m fine, it’s nothing.“, Joffrey responded, but fell into a coughing fit. He tried to raise his sword, but his shaking fingers couldn’t hold it and it clattered to the ground. 

In the same moment as Cersei, Jaime sprang into action. He sprinted to the stage, pushing some lord out of the way. Joffrey fell and Cersei placed his head on her lap, begging Joffrey to be alright, not to die. Jaime didn’t feel anything and that scared him more then the sight of his firstborn son dying on his wedding day. There were tears in Cersei’s eyes and Joffrey was choking, his skin turning purple and his eyes red. He twitched and there was nothing Jaime could do and it was just another failure. He had thought he could be a King’s Guard again, and here he was and how much good had it done him? He had killed his first king, he had spent the entire war as a prisoner, he had lost his hand and now he had lost a son and another king. 

There was one last desperate twitch and then Joffrey fell limp. Jaime closed his eyes to shut out the image. And then he heard Cersei. „It was him.“, she said. 

Jaime opened his eyes and followed her gaze. It landed on Tyrion who had just picked up the obviously poisoned cup.

„Take him!“, Cersei yelled. Rage and hatred in her voice. „Take him! TAKE HIM!“

Jaime watched as two of his fellow King's Guards flanked Tyrion and walked him off. Only when his eyes fell upon the sword lying discarded and unnoticed on the floor did he think of Robb. He looked around, but the Stark wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Ser Illyn and the King’s Guard were still on their posts, except for those who had taken Tyrion and the guards appeared to be too. Jaime suppressed his smile and tried to flush out that spark of hope that had settled in his chest. He didn’t point out the absence of the Stark, if he had made it, he would need all the head start he could get. And then Jaime noticed something else. „Where is Lady Sansa?“, he asked no one in particular. Nobody answered, but moments later the guards were sent out to look for her. Only then did somebody raise their voice to yell: „And where is Robb Stark?“

Moments later, the chaos was complete. 

 

It took roughly two weeks until Jaime had a spare moment. His time had been occupied with trying to find out who had killed Joffrey and what they could have done to prevent it, then there had been the funeral and Tommen’s coronation. There had been meetings with his father and training sessions with Bronn. He had been thinking about Tyrion who sat in the dungeons now, though fortunately not in the black cells like Robb had. He had wondered about Sansa and subsequently Robb. Neither of them had been found, even though the Goldcloaks had scoured the city. They had probably left town. 

After two weeks of constant stress Jaime had followed an advice he had gotten from Bronn and had left the keep in common clothes and only lightly armed to have a drink away from everything. Bronn had offered to come with him, but Jaime had refused. He needed to think and to have a drink and that without the company of either his family or the annoying, mouthy but still likable now knighted sell-sword. 

Jaime had gone into some tavern, sat in a corner and had two ales. They had tasted terribly, but they had done their job. Jaime wasn’t drunk exactly, but he was a bit more relaxed and he didn’t feel as stressed anymore. So Jaime decided to leave, maybe go to the beach or just walk around to clear his head. 

He was walking through Flee Bottom, a narrow alleyway that lead to the lower parts of the city, when suddenly, a hand grabbed him by the collar and yanked him through one of the doors. Jaime twisted out of the grip out of instinct and pulled the dagger he had brought. He slammed his attacker against the wall and was about to cut his throat, when he recognized him. 

„Robb?“, he asked. 

„In the flesh.“ The Stark smirked and used his boot to kick the door shut. 

Jaime sheathed his dagger. The boy looked much better. Most of the bruises had healed, he had cut his hair a bit and shaven his beard to a stubble. Also he was wearing a shirt again and looked generally more like a handsome commoner than a beaten up noble man. Jaime allowed himself a smile. „I thought you had left town with your sister. Why did you stick around? It’s dangerous here.“

„What do you mean _with my sister_? Where is Sansa? Is she alright?“, Robb immediately asked. 

Jaime was surprised. „You mean she isn’t with you?“ He smiled. „Well she isn’t in the keep either, so she must have had separate escape plans.“ 

„She got away?“ The look on Robb’s face was pure relief. 

„She did.“ Jaime smiled and then sighed. „They’re blaming Tyrion for the poisoning and Sansa is being hunted as an accomplice. They haven’t found her though and nobody has a clue where she could be.“

Robb grinned widely. 

„So why did you stick around?“, Jaime felt compelled to ask. „It’s really not a smart move.“

„Well, I've hidden myself pretty well so far and it’s not what people expect. Also, I wanted to say thank you. For you know… Everything.“

Jaime felt a warm feeling in his chest at the honest words. „You helped me just as much as I helped you, so don’t thank me.“

Robb nodded. Then a wicked spark found his way into his eyes. „By the way, now would be a good time for that rematch I owe you.“

Jaime smirked. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about the way Robb smirked and talked and kissed and moaned. And after Robb’s quiet escape his hopes for the rematch had risen again. (His hope hadn’t been the only thing that had risen at the thought of Robb naked.) So Jaime didn’t even hesitate to answer in a deliberately low tone of voice. „I’ve you’re up to it, little wolf.“

Robb smirked, grabbed his shirt and twisted until he had Jaime standing against the closed door. Jaime let his hand run through the Stark's dark curls and for a moment they just looked at each other, before Robb leaned forward and Jaime met him halfway. The kiss was hot and passionate, but not as violent as the first time. This time, the game had changed. They were still competing, but neither of them could still pretend the other was an adversary. Instead of fighting for victory or dominance, they were teasing each other, seeing what the other would do. 

Jaime wrapped his right arm around Robb's waist to pull him closer, while he let his left hand wander and touch. They broke the kiss to regain their breath and Robb continued to place little kisses and soft bites along his jaw and neck, down to his collarbone. Jaime pulled back his hand and began to undo the strings of his shirt. He had gotten a lot better at it over the past months. Off was easy. But tying a knot one handed was still a curse. Robb took the invitation and pushed Jaime's shirt from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor carelessly. Robb let his hands roam and Jaime pulled him back in for a kiss, his arm hooked behind the Starks shoulders, while he untied the first knot in Robb's shirt. 

Robb caught his hand. 

Jaime stilled, pulling back a little. "What is it?", he asked softly. Robb averted his eyes and didn't say anything. Jaime sighed, as he realized what the problem was. "It's the brand, isn't it." It wasn't a question. Robb nodded, shame, but also a cold anger burning in his eyes. Jaime sighed. "Whoever did that is an asshole and I hope he dies a terrible death. However, I don't think this makes you any less handsome. It's just like a battle scar. It shows what you've been through. And besides, it could be worse.", Jaime added, holding up his golden hand.

Robb looked at it for a moment, then he took hold of it and pulled it off. The hand clattered to the floor with a loud bang, while Robb looked at his stump. Now Jaime felt self conscious. The stump was ugly and useless and sometimes Jaime still felt fingers there, even though they were long gone. He hated to be reminded of his disability. 

Robb traced the faint scars with his fingertips, before looking up. He must have seen Jaime's self hatred about his lost hand since he stepped close again and planted a gentle kiss on Jaime's lips. Then he pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion. Jaime couldn't help but stare at the brand for a moment, before he looked into Robb's eyes. The young Stark's still stood upright, held his head high and his back straight, like a nobleman and a king. Only his eyes spoke of the defeat, pain and loss he had endured. 

Jaime didn't like it. Robb Stark wasn't one to give up, to hate himself for things that weren't his fault or to be fragile. Robb was supposed to get up again, to come back fighting and throwing wit and banter around. Jaime had to make sure he would. 

"None of it is your fault, you know?", said, gently tracing scars and muscles on the Starks torso. "I know my father. He convinced the Freys to betray you, he convinced the Boltons to betray you, he planned to ambush you the moment he knew he wouldn't win in battle. It's not your fault."

"Yes it is." Robb said quietly and started pacing around the room. "If I had just married that Frey girl, like I had promised, if I had listened to Lord Bolton's advice... he told me it was a bad idea to marry Talisa, he told me it would have dire consequences! But I didn't listen. And now they're all dead! My mother, Grey Wind, Talisa..."  
Jaime walked over to Robb and lay a hand on his shoulder. "We don't choose whom we love.", he said. "Trust me, I've tried." He held Robb's gaze. "And we all do regrettable things for love. Marrying your Talisa isn't one of them. Pushing a boy out a window, that is." 

Robb didn't seem entirely convinced and his anger at the mention of his brother only held for a moment, but he seemed to have put his guilt behind him for now. The playful smirk from the beginning was back. It wasn't really convincing after that little outburst, but Jaime was happy to play along. They could talk later, for now, he just wanted to enjoy that the Stark was alive and he had a suspicion, that Robb wanted that too. "So...", Robb begann. "Are you _up_ for a little more?" 

Jaime laughed. "That was terrible.", he said. "But I'm glad you still have your sense of humor." With that they went back to kissing, passionately and intimately. Jaime explored Robb's body with his hand all the while seeing what kind of noises he could coax out of him. There was that satisfied groan when Jaime ground their hips together, that soft moan when he found a particularly sensitive spot on the Stark boy's neck. Robb was just as good. Jaime couldn't suppress a moan when Robb began to rub him through his breeches and started to suck and bite a little bruise on his neck. 

At some point Robb turned them around and pulled Jaime with him into the next room. Jaime almost didn't notice, he was occupied with the sensation of Robb's hand, rubbing his half hard cock through his pants, his teeth on his neck, his hair tickling his jaw... 

Eventually Robb pulled him down onto a thin mattress that lay in a corner, apparently what he had been sleeping on for the last weeks. It was not as comfortable as the bed in the camp had been, but it was better than the floor and in that moment neither of them cared. 

Jaime looked down on Robb beneath him, who was smiling, his pupils wide with desire. Jaime balanced his weight on his right forearm and gently traced the boy's features with his left. His jawline, his cheekbones, his soft lips...

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Robb opened his mouth and sucked in Jaime's thumb. He gently sucked it and licked it with his tongue and the slightest hint of teeth. Jaime gave a moan at the sight and feeling, his breeches feeling way to constraining by now. Robb must have been thinking the same thing, since he quickly untied Jaime's pants and pushed them down. While Jaime kicked them and his boots off, Robb slipped out of his too. 

They ground their hips together and both groaned. Robb had his arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled himself up so he could whisper in Jaime's ear: "Come on then. I thought you said you wanted to make me howl." 

Jaime teasingly bit his shoulder and answered: "I didn't exactly come prepared for this." 

Robb smirked. "I did." He reached under the pillow below his head and pulled out a small vial of oil. He handed it to Jaime. Jaime took it from him and hesitated for a moment. He knew what to do with it, that wasn't the problem but... "Are you sure?", he asked. Robb smiled. "Yes." His smile turned teasing. "But if you don't want to, I suppose I..." 

Jaime shut him up by sealing his lips with his own. There it was again. The game. The rules had changed, enemies had become friendly rivals, victory was no longer achieved by dominance, but it was still there, their little game. Jaime was glad that it was. And apparently Robb had been fantasizing about their rematch just as much as he had. 

Jaime opened the cap of the vial and slicked his fingers, before he slowly and lightly trailed his forefinger down Robb's cock, over his balls and further, until he reached his hole. Robb was taking deep breaths and relaxed, as Jaime slowly pushed a finger inside him. 

Jaime gave it a moment and began to move his finger, slowly stretching Robb while he planted kisses all over his abdomen and chest, teasing his nipples with his tongue. Robb whined and Jaime counted that as a point for him. 

He pulled his finger out, pushing back in with two. Robb hummed pleased and one of his hands settled on his neck. "Why did you cut your hair?", Robb asked jokingly. "I liked pulling it." 

Jaime chuckled, as he began to scissor his fingers, which drew another moan from Robb. Jaime added a third finger and met Robb for a kiss. It was slow, heated by desire and lust and it left both of them breathless. "Come on, I'm ready!", Robb complained shortly after. 

"As you command, little wolf." Jaime pulled out his fingers and quickly slicked his cock, before guiding it to Robb's entrance. He looked him in the eyes and slowly pushed himself inside. Robb's head fell back and he clutched at Jaime's back. Jaime groaned when he was fully sheathed inside Robb, the tightness and heat was incredible. Robb gave a pleased hum and after a moment he bit Jaime's ear the way he had done the first time and and commanded: "Move."

None of the kings Jaime had served over the years had ever sounded as commanding and royal as Robb in that moment. 

Jaime hummed agreeingly and began to slowly rock his hips forward and back. He started out with shallow thrust, but soon he followed the invitation of Robb’s hips rocking back and forth to meet his thrusts and he moved faster and deeper. Jaime could feel sweat on his skin and he and Robb had begun to pant in the rhythm of their sex. 

Jaime shifted slightly and Robb hooked his legs around his waist. The shift brought a slightly different angle with it, that suddenly had Robb crying out with pleasure. Jaime moaned at the noise. So that’s what the little wolf sounded like when he was howling. It was beautiful and it made him speed up his thrusts. 

When he felt himself growing closer, Jaime wrapped his hand around Robb’s cock and began to stroke it in the rhythm of his thrusts. Robb scratched his back with his nails but Jaime barely noticed the sting. He could feel the moment Robb came apart, his whole body tightening around him, his breath catching and then Robb threw his head back and moaned. „Jaime!“

And that was Jaime’s favorite sound of the evening. Robb saying his name like that with that much longing and trust… Jaime came too and almost collapsed on top of him. He managed to catch himself and slowly pulled out, rolling to the side. Jaime sighed contently. This was so much easier than all the troubles he had up in the keep. 

Hair tickled his neck, as Robb lay his head on his shoulder. They lay there for a while, just breathing and enjoying the other’s warmth next to them. But then Jaime had to satisfy his curiosity and broke the silence. „So, what are you going to do now?“

Robb shrugged. „Travel around maybe. See some of Westeros I haven’t seen before, maybe sail across the narrow see, visit Talisa’s parents. I don’t think they even know she’s dead. She wrote them but…“ He paused. „I miss her.“

Jaime threaded his fingers through Robb’s hair, but that was the only comfort he had to offer. 

„Maybe I’ll look for Sansa or Arya, or I’ll join Jon on the Wall. I haven’t decided yet.“

Jaime nodded. „Just don’t get yourself killed.“

„Are you trying to tell me you care, Lannister?“, Robb teased. 

„Of course I do.“, Jaime answered honestly. There was no denying it at this point. 

„Well, you don’t die either, then.“, Robb retorted and Jaime nodded. „I’ll do my best.“

After that, they settled. It didn’t take long for the post sex relaxation to lull Jaime in a restful and quiet sleep. 

 

When Jaime came down the stairs to the shore the next morning, Bronn was already waiting. He was sitting on his usual place with a skin of wine and the two practice swords. 

„Good morning.“, Jaime greeted and walked over to him. 

„You’re lookin’ well rested.“ Bronn threw a sword at him and Jaime caught it. He was getting better. 

„Had a good night.“, Jaime answered lightly. 

Bronn smirked. „Followed my advice, eh? How was the night as a commoner?“

„Relaxing.“, Jaime answered and took up position. 

„You don’t have a hangover.“, Bronn stated matter-of-factly. „How was that night relaxing?“

Jaime just shrugged. 

Bronn and he exchanged a few quick blows. Suddenly, Bronn stepped back. „On your neck!“, he said triumphantly. „That’s a love mark if I’ve ever seen one.“ Bronn grinned widely. „You got laid.“

„Shut up.“, Jaime snapped, but didn’t really manage to put enough venom behind it. 

„So… Was she good?“, Bronn asked. 

„Shut up.“, Jaime repeated. 

„That good, eh?“ Bronn kept grinning as he lunged forward again. 

Jaime blocked and spent the rest of their training session trying to wipe that grin of Bronn’s face while half of his mind tried not to think of Robb. Neither really worked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was it. Hope you liked it. Please comment and leave kudos, that makes me very happy :)


End file.
